I Hate You
by ThatRosieSparkle
Summary: Harry hates Draco in every way possible, and Draco doesn't quite realise what this means. Draco/Harry
1. Charming

**A/N: First of many! I apologise for this series in advance. It is, in my opinion, a good idea, but I feel I have butchered it with my lame, last-ditch attempt at writing it. I'm not very good with dialogue. Do not blame me for the lack of flair, ****blame school!**

  
_Chapter One_

Charming

"Fuck off, Malfoy" Harry seethed.

"Eloquent Potter," drawled Malfoy, "did they teach you to be that common at the Weasel's?"

"Eat dung" Ron growled.

"Come now Weasley, at least try and be imaginative. God knows your family needs some creative thinkers to try and figure out ways in which that pigsty of yours could be made inhabitable." replied Draco, smirking.

"You…" Ron let out a strangled yell as he lunged towards Malfoy, landing on the desk and crushing several small vials in the process.

"Mr Weasley," a silky voice carried from the doorway. "That is quite enough. Let's see, twenty points from Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on Mr Malfoy."

Malfoy smirked again, "and he damaged my equipment, Sir."

"Did he?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"But Potter started it all, Sir," continued Draco, matter-of-factly, "he incited Weasley." A cruel smile played across the Slytherin's lips.

Harry glared at Malfoy, injecting as much venom into one look as he could possibly muster.

"Indeed?" enquired Snape. "I think a separation should put a stop to such petulant behaviour. Mr Weasley, you can sit with Mr Nott. Potter, here, next to Mr Malfoy."

"Git," murmured Ron.

"That is a further five points from Gryffindor, Mr Weasley. Any more of this churlishness and I will have to give you a detention." Snape glared menacingly at Ron.

As Ron stomped over to where Theodore Nott was sitting, Harry slammed his bag down on the desk closest to the front, shooting daggers at a now gleeful Malfoy.

"Smooth, Potter," he sneered as Harry sat down.

Harry opened his mouth to retort but was cut short by an extremely irritated Snape.

"One more word while I am talking Mr Potter and you will be in detention every Saturday evening until you have learnt to keep your opinions to yourself." The Potions master snapped. "Ten points from Gryffindor," and he swooped away across the dungeon.

Harry ground his teeth while Malfoy simply sat, thoroughly amused, lips drawn into a tight smirk.

Harry caught sight of this. "I. Hate. You." he growled under his breath.

"Charming," came the familiar drawl.

**What did you think? Do you have an opinion? Yes? Well then tell me!**

**Chapter 2 coming soon. And by soon, I mean within the next few days. Hold on tight!**

**Review! Please!**


	2. Love you too

**A/N: The second chapter is here! I'd actually already written it (and the third, fourth and now fifth), but decided to keep you in suspense. Ha! There's no real development in this chapter, so number t****hree will be up very, very soon. Anyway, enough of me: enjoy!**

_Chapter Two_

Love You Too

Harry skidded around a corner, glasses askew, black hair sticking out at crazy angles. He was panting slightly, cheeks flushed, and obviously hurrying to be where he wasn't.

"Going somewhere, Potter?" enquired Malfoy, lazily jutting out his foot and sending the raven haired boy sprawling on the floor.

Harry jumped up, flustered. His glasses were bent and his nose was bleeding.

"Nowhere that concerns you, Malfoy," he spat, wiping blood from his face with the sleeve of his robe. Malfoy wrinkled his nose.

"It couldn't be a date with that awful Weasley girl, could it?" he taunted as he leant against the cold stone wall as if it were a throne, platinum hair perfectly in place like a crown.

Harry glared at the Slytherin, taken back by the abrupt nature of Malfoy's question. He pointed his wand at his glasses and muttered "Reparo", avoiding the demanding grey eyes that bored into the top of his head. Reluctantly, he responded.

"How did you find out about that?" growled Harry, annoyance flaring in his emerald eyes.

"I have my sources, Potter," Malfoy smirked. He was clearly enjoying having the upper hand. "Well you'd better get a move on if you don't want her to get bored; we all know how flippant weasels can be."

"I hate you," snarled Harry, before stalking off towards the grounds.

"Love you too," Malfoy spoke to the deserted corridor, a glint in his eye as he too departed the scene.

**Once again, apologies for the nothingness that was Chapter Two. Here is Chapter Three straight away to make up for it.**

**A review wouldn't go amiss you know. -Cheesy grin-**


	3. What?

**A/N: As promised, here is number three. Slightly more point to this one, and a tiny hint of some plot development. DON'T WORRY, THIS ****IS**** GOING SOMEWHERE. You will just have to wait and find out. Enjoy!**

_Chapter Three_

What?

"I don't know why you do it," sighed Blaise Zabini, pushing open the large oak doors to the Great Hall.

"Come on Blaise, use your imagination," came the reply from Draco Malfoy as he swept past his fellow Slytherin and strutted towards his seat at the head of the table.

"You don't…" Blaise trailed off.

"Yes, Blaise, I do," teased Draco, helping himself to chicken.

"But… it's Potter… He's a… Gryffindor," Blaise murmured, muttering the last word with obvious disgust.

"Well observed, Blaise," Draco cheerfully responded, "and now that you have figured out why exactly I annoy him as I do, will you please be quiet and leave me to my meal?"

"But… Potter?" came the revolted reply from Blaise, who looked positively crushed at the idea.

"Yes, Potter," grinned Draco.

A commotion across the hall interrupted the Slytherins' meal.

Harry Potter stormed towards the Slytherin table, clutching a piece of paper and leaving an abashed Ginny Weasley sitting, flushed red, very much alone.

Draco smirked as Harry drew up to him.

A picture was thrust under Draco's nose.

"What is this?" growled Harry menacingly.

"A photograph," answered Draco, mischief shining in his mercury eyes, betraying the innocence painted perfectly onto his face.

"Of…" Harry prompted.

The mischievous eyes lit up. "Why, it's your weaslette," exclaimed Draco in feigned surprise, "with, gosh, is that you Blaise?"

Harry rounded on the second boy.

"I think it might be," Blaise drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, I did tell you she'd get bored, Potter," said Draco with mock sincerity.

A deep, guttural growl rose in Harry's throat as he stared at Draco, green eyes wild with fury.

"I hate you, you know?" Harry shouted, flaring up.

"Oh yes," Draco replied in a sing song voice.

When Harry had flung himself through the doors of the Great Hall amid much turning of heads and hurried whispers, Blaise span, exasperated, to face Draco.

"What?" Draco shrugged.

**Sorry the chapters are so short.**

**I need to stop apologising. I take it back, I like short chapters. And so should you.**

**Now go and review. Tell me that you like long chapters and want some. Tell me that you like short chapters. Tell me anything. Go!**


	4. That's inventive

**A/N: Bit of a pointless chapter really. But it does tie in with my whole idea for the series, so bear with me please. Enjoy!**

_Chapter Four_

That's inventive

"It's alright mate," consoled Ron, patting Harry on the back gingerly.

"No-one will care Harry," Hermione chimed in. "No-one heard what you actually said, just how loudly you said it…"

Harry groaned, "I've made an idiot of myself."

"No not at all," Hermione reassured him a little too quickly.

"It's just Malfoy," Ron added, his eyes darkening. "If I ever found out how he framed Ginny like that I'll…" He trailed off menacingly, leaving the empty threat hanging.

Neither Harry nor Hermione had dared to tell Ron that the incriminating picture of Ginny had, in fact, been taken with her full knowledge and consent, instead resolving to allow him to mutter angrily about Malfoy to himself should they ever come across the Slytherin, which, invariably, they did.

"Erm, Harry?" piped up Hermione.

"Mm-hmm,"

"What exactly _did_ you say to Malfoy?" Her tone was timid.

"I hate you," Harry mumbled sheepishly.

"Oh," Hermione replied, "that's, erm, inventive…" Ron sniggered.

"Thanks," came the sarcastic response, closely followed by a screwed Potions essay soaring through the air towards a flaming orange head.

"Ow!"

**There was a reason I wrote this chapter. But to console those who were expecting something with a little more bulk to it, here is Chapter Five, the one we've all been waiting for, straight away.**

**Go! Review! Read!**


	5. Yeah, Potter?

**A/N: This is the chapter that was the original idea which I then built on. The ones before it were simply to set the scene. Please, enjoy!**

_Chapter Five_

Yeah, Potter?

"Potter?"

Draco approached the Golden Boy, acutely aware that something was very, very wrong.

The sky was dark, thunderclouds rolled threateningly overheard, a persistent mist hanging in the air. The grounds looked bleak: great lake smooth and glassy, a pool of melancholy, glinting silver; forbidden forest monochromatic in the unforgiving light, trees uniform, grey; Hogwarts, vast and imposing, darkly overlooking the scene; hill after hill, undulating ground spreading like a disease over the landscape, dulled and barren. 

"What do you want?" snapped Harry, face impassive.

"I only came to see what on earth The Boy Who Lived was doing sitting, alone, outside in the cold when he could be in Dumbledore's office having a cosy little chat about saving the world, again." He didn't know why, but his voice retained the same cruel, mocking tone he reserved especially for Harry.

"You have no idea, do you?" asked the Gryffindor, face still unreadable.

"Do enlighten me, O Chosen One," drawled Draco.

Harry remained where he was, sat on the floor, crouched and huddled over as if trying to shield himself from the penetrating misery that hung in the air. His jet black hair stood out against his parchment white skin, emerald eyes seemingly the only colour for miles around.

"Not so keen to be the centre of attention without a gaggle of adoring fans to lap up your every word?" Draco asked, cold malice commanding his lips to form such spiteful words while his gut instinct told him to shut up and leave the other boy alone with his thoughts.

A silence crept between them, Draco's words still resounding in the stillness.

Slowly, Harry turned and stood up to face Draco. His features were a perfect mask of serenity, calmness painted onto his alabaster face, unnerving against the stark landscape. Green was locked with grey as Harry spoke the three words Draco had been hearing from him all their school lives:

"I hate you."

It was said quietly; one misplaced murmur and it would have been missed. Clearly; voice controlled, as if the true meaning of the phrase had been waiting for eternity to be imparted. Impervious as his face was, the gravity with which the words were spoken was astronomical. The raven haired boy's eyes burned with resentment and ferocity, defeat etched into every line of his impenetrable expression.

He turned again. He walked away.

Draco stayed standing, glued in place by the force of the pure hatred that had come tumbling so easily out of Harry's mouth. Guilt tore at his insides, panic gripped at his chest.

"Yeah, Potter?" he shouted instinctively at the retreating figure, "I hate you too."

Stunned, he too turned on his heel and left, the previous events playing over and over in his mind, torturing him. All the years spent tormenting Harry, Draco hadn't thought twice about making his life a living hell. Not once had he considered how much damage his snide remarks could do. He should have seen this coming, should have known this would happen, and he shouldn't have let it.

**I love this chapter. Chapter Six coming soon, as I am still writing it. Please tell me what you think so far! Review!**


	6. I know

**A/N: OK, I really love the idea for this chapter but am a bit annoyed with how it links with other ones, specifically Chapter Three. It sounds as if Draco is only just realising that he doesn't hate Harry, when in fact he is realising that he has always loved him. Does that come through? Have I just ruined the entire chapter for you? Bleugh. Enjoy!**

_Chapter Six_

I know

Draco mentally slapped himself back to reality.

Harry hated him, he had known that already. So why had it been such a shock to hear it put so simply, categorically stated by Harry himself?

Harry's face flashed through his memory, devoid of feeling, completely shut off from the world around him. He had looked so cold, so heartless. Dumbledore kept saying that love was the key to defeating Voldemort, yet Draco thought back to his brief encounter with the Golden Boy and saw anything but love. All the mollycoddling, the fame and attention, adored by his house, hailed as the new boy wonder; that wasn't love. Affection, admiration, yes, but not love.

Once again the guilt that had broiled deep in Draco's stomach rose up, winding itself around his throat, choking him. All his life, Draco had been taught not to make attachments, "feelings can only ever slow you down, Draco". He knew how it felt to be alone. But looking at Harry and seeing his detachment from the world, the distancing of himself from others, how his isolation was slowly suffocating him; forced to live a life devoid of love, now made Draco understand. He'd never really hated Harry at all.

With a gasp, Draco span around and tore after the Gryffindor.

Realisation kicked in, Draco's world tipped upside down in a matter of seconds. It was dizzying, the weight of the truth. Draco's feet pounded on the ground, heart racing wildly.

"Idiot boy," his father's words rang in his ears, his disappointment and criticism jarring against Harry's confession of hatred, over and over, a cacophony of regret.

Draco extended a long, slender arm; white fingers clasping Harry's black robes, pulling the other boy around to face him. Harry's expression was still stony cold, eyes piercing.

"Say it again," Draco pleaded, grey eyes flashing madly, desperation driving him.

He let go of Harry.

"Say it again," he shouted, shoving at the shorter boy and causing him to stumble.

Harry stared, confused, but still said nothing.

Thunder rumbled overhead and a crack of lightening cleaved the sky in two. The dark clouds burst, heavy rain lashing towards the ground.

Draco pushed Harry again, harder, and Harry took another step back.

"Say it again," he cried, frustration and panic overwhelming him, drowning him. His platinum blond hair was plastered to his forehead, salty tears mingling with the rain that pummelled his grief-stricken face. His stormy grey eyes were a perfect match for the churning sky above them, glinting and sparking like the lightening that tore through the night.

He launched himself at Harry, kicking and yelling.

"Say it again," he screamed, clawing at the raven haired boy wildly, desperate for a response.

So Harry pushed him back.

"I hate you," he said quietly, rising to the challenge. He advanced towards Draco, black hair sodden, cheeks streaked with rain.

"Again," Draco snarled.

"I hate you," shouted Harry, eyes boiling with fury, jaw twitching.

"Again," Draco growled.

"I hate you, cried Harry. He pushed Draco again, harder this time, strong arms tensed, and Draco fell, sprawled in the mud.

"Again," Draco roared from the ground, staring up at a now livid Harry.

"I hate you," screamed Harry, eyes aflame, rage pounding through him just as the rain beat at the ground.

Draco's pale form shrunk beneath Harry's towering anger, an inferno burning on years of pent up frustration. Earlier, the truth had been heard more clearly than ever before, but now the reasoning and emotions behind it came flooding out in a torrent of abuse directed at Draco. His fragile body seemed to snap under the force with which Harry flung words at him.

"Again," whispered Draco, shame and guilt scrawled across his face.

"I hate you," sobbed Harry, sinking to the floor, the fury of only moments before dissipating and leaving him exposed, despair open to the world, "I hate you."

Draco crawled closer to the Gryffindor, his own body shaking, racked with sobs, battered by rain. He reached Harry and gathered him into his arms, winding thin, white fingers into thick, black hair. He buried his face in the distraught boy's neck, losing himself in the folds of soaking fabric.

"I know," he choked.

**Does it fit? Does it flow? I really like it, but am just not quite happy with how it turned out, despite having written and re-written it about a hundred times.**

**So tell me what you think, PLEASE. Go! Review!**


	7. Liar

**A/N: People have been expecting Harry's reaction to Chapter Six, but there isn't one, because the whole series has been kind of from Draco's pov and that was the whole point. Sorry. Eek. This was the planned finale, and so it shall remain that way. Enjoy!**

_Chapter Six_

Liar

Harry's tanned chest steadily rose and fell in front of Draco, whose bright silver eyes were fixed upon the sleeping boy. They slowly followed the curve of Harry's spine up towards his neck, trickling over the tousled black hair and flowing over a definite jaw-line, coming to rest on flushed, slightly parted lips. Draco's gaze lingered on Harry's perfect face for a little longer before dragging themselves away to sweep over his bronzed torso, drinking in every inch of him.

Draco thought back over the years; the playful arguments, the childish comments, the spiteful jibes, the vehement hexes, the frustrated mutterings, the final clash, the quiet understanding, the passionate sex.

Dipping his head low, Draco put his own lips to Harry's ear, nuzzling and biting before whispering softly, "I know you're awake."

Harry groaned as Draco bit down harder, running his mouth down Harry's neck and planting a trail of hot kisses over his shoulder.

"I hate you," moaned Harry as Draco reached the small of his back, tracing exquisite letters on Harry's skin with his tongue. Kissing his way back up Harry's chest, Draco came eye to eye with the Gryffindor, deep pools of mercury glinting devilishly in the early morning sunlight.

With a smirk, he crashed his lips against Harry's, taking his lover by surprise.

As Harry melted beneath him, opening his mouth to grant Draco entrance, Draco grinned into the kiss. "Liar," he murmured, before Harry wound a hand into his silky blond hair and dragged him down onto the bed.

"**Where's the plot?" I hear you scream. You'll have to think of it yourselves I'm afraid. This was my idea and I quite like it. Do you? No? Yes? Tell me.**

**Go! Review immediately! Please!**


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